01-20-2004 - 7:17 p.m.
In 83 days I board a plane headed for Cancun, Mexico.
In 83 days I begin a week of much deserved rest and relaxation.
In 83 days, I grace the beaches in a bikini.
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!
Yes, people, it's true. Me in a bathing suit will for the second year in a row be happening much sooner than the summertime. It's been two summers since I ditched my modestly cut one pieces in favor of bikinis (all in the name of a kick ass tan) and I still get jittery at the thought of putting one on. Prior to the age of 21, the last time I had gone out in public in a two piece I was about 16 years old and at the height of my excercise obsession and eating abnormality era (aka the current me minus 25 pounds). Needless to say, it's still horribly uncomfortable for me to brave the public eye showing so much skin.
And so, since there's only 83 days to go, today was the start of my "Live Happier/Healthier" lifestyle change. (Go ahead, I won't be offended if you laugh.) My mom has been bugging me for a long time to change my eating habits, and starting today her wish is finally granted. I still can't bear to subject myself to the outrageous Atkins lifestyle she'd love for me to adopt, but I am eating more fruits, vegetables, and proteins, and alot less Pop Tarts, cookies, ice cream, candy bars and cakes. (Damn, no wonder I have so many cavities, my diet is straight out of Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory!)
Anyways, the real point of this rambling is to introduce my story about the militant lesbian group fitness instructor I encountered today. Part of my new being healthy kick is getting back in gear at the gym. I was doing awesome for a few months, and then being sick and the holidays totally killed it for me. So, to get myself back on track, today I started taking Body Pump classes. (My gym rocks, thank you.) Body Pump is an hour long class that basically consists of lifting weights to music. Each song you target a specific muscle group, and within the hour you have completed a total body workout. It's really an awesome workout, if you ask me.
So, anyways, this class is filled with your totally average female gym goers- most in their 30s or 40s, most quite soft and only semi-fit. Then, G.I. Jane the instructor comes sauntering in. She's dressed in yoga pants and a tank top that shows off her GIGANTIC biceps. If this chick isn't on steroids, then she is most definitely a transexual. Even if I took this class 5 times a day, 7 days a week, my biceps at their largest would be about 1/8 the size of hers. And to make her look even less feminine, she's got this roses and vines tattoo going around her left bicep. GIRLS DO NOT GET ARM BAND TATTOOS!!! THAT IS SO UNCALLED FOR!!!
Then, the class begins. She was wearing one of those headset microphones (the ones that make you look like you're either a pop star or an Old Navy employee) and in between giving her instructions she's totally singing along to the music!!! And I'm not talking like oooh I like this song let me softly sing along I'm talking full and out I think I'm on a stage performing to a sold out crowd singing. Once in a while she'd even throw in some little moves such as a headbang or a finger point to compliment the show. I found it very amusing when we were doing the chest portion to that god awful Enter Sandman song by Metallica. Now, I'm definitely not a Metallica fan, but even I know that the words are not EXTRA light! Enter night! I was like, goddamn woman, if you're gonna sing at least look up the lyrics first!
Even stranger though, was how she made everything seem sexual. I honestly felt like someone was piping in the soundtrack from a really bad porn flick. She was all like grunting and oohing and moaning the whole time. And her instructions were sexual too. Let's go ladies! Let's take it deeeeeeeeper. Oh yeah! How's that feel? You like that? And the whole time I'm thinking to myself Ok, am I just a sick fuck, or are these soccer moms feeling like this chick's a little whacked too? I couldn't doubt myself any longer though when we were doing this overhead press thing and she's like Ok ladies, just pretend like you're taking off your shirt! Let me see you take those shirts off! First off, unless I undress strangely, I did not feel as though the move replicated taking off your shirt. Secondly, just being told by this woman to pretend I was taking off my shirt gave me the creeps.
It's a damn shame that I really enjoyed the actual workout and subsequent feeling of major accomplishment. This means I'll probably be encountering the militant lesbian more often than I'd like. I have to give mad props though, for choosing the Nelly/Justin Timberlake collaboration Work It for the abs portion of the workout. So, she's a militant lesbian with good taste in music.
Time to go improve my mind with some reading :o)
